


A Perfect Fit

by SimplyTsundere



Series: Writing Requests [29]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, No Plot/Plotless, One Shot, Smut, fashion designer jean, italian marco, model Marco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 22:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13304316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyTsundere/pseuds/SimplyTsundere
Summary: After waking up on a stranger's lap on the subway, fashion designer Jean Kirschtein has already had a bad week. Fashion Week is about to begin and one of his models has fallen out. Discovering the lap he'd borrowed was of one Marco Bodt, replacement model, he soon notices that he's going to need to alter Marco's outfit. Luckily, the broad, freckled, sultry man agrees to follow him back to his loft so Jean can "take his measurements." At least the remaining of Jean's energy would be well spent on making a perfect fit.





	A Perfect Fit

**Author's Note:**

> Smutty one shot from my pile of requests?! I think so! I hope you'll all enjoy!
> 
> ~Hugs & Kisses,  
> ❤♠Neko❤♠

Run, run, run; that's what the last several days had felt like for Jean Kirschtein. It seemed like every waking moment someone needed him for one thing or another. Models were running around the studio, photographers were stationing their sets in strange places, and the general flow of traffic around the warehouse was shot all to complete shit. There were only a couple of days left before the big show and one of his models hadn't even flown into the fucking country yet! All around him things were going to hell but, then again, that was the cycle of things in his industry. Nowadays, almost anyone could become a fashion designer given the right style, the right attitude, the right connections, and the right inspiration. 

It wasn't to say the world wasn't competitive. Quite the contrary, once inside the fashion industry it was liable to chew someone up and spit them out in a day. Not everyone was cut out for the demanding type of life. Those lucky few who managed to stick it out, catch local eyes, and impress those above them in seniority had the greatest chances of becoming the next big thing. Jean had been one of those lucky few. His parents had told him pursuing a dream in the fashion industry as a designer and not a model would be the death of him. They only believed him to be a pretty face with nothing else to really offer the world but he found he only ran best on spite and as many Redbull's as possible. To his family he delivered a hardy "fuck you" after landing in his first show.

Six years later and he's headlining his own show to kick off fashion week. He'd come a long way from the catwalk to the design book. His piercing amber eyes, two toned undercut of pecan and soft flaxen, and sharp, masculine features no longer graced the runway but he was thankful he'd had the opportunity. In his mind, the way some people had been treated was beyond the worst farm animal treatment. He vowed his line would be different. He celebrated people of a variety of backgrounds and shapes in his line, sponsoring the diversity in the world. To do that, however, it required finesse and models from different regions around the world. He spent days contracting models and their agents, making sure there was a garment to fit them, and, overall, running around his damn shop like a chicken with it's head cut off.

Finally, the day was over and he was heading back to his apartment via train. He never remembered falling asleep but the gentle motion of the train, the warmth in the car, and the quiet ambiance had lured him quite easily. It had been over 30 hours since he'd last slept but, while he did in fact need the sleep, he wasn't exactly keen on how he'd gotten it when he woke up. Staring up at a book, Jean blinked slowly and made an attempt to read what was in front of him even though he was seeing it as upside down. With the name J.M. Barrie in front of him, Jean had quite an inkling of the book that might have been.

_ "Peter Pan," _ he mumbled under his breath. As if on command, the book lowered and Jean was mesmerized by the sight the book had been hiding. A beautiful image of tanned, freckle dusted cheeks and rich umber doe eyes had him staring in disbelief. Whoever this man was, Jean really found himself dying to know. Waves of short russet hair lied atop a high buzz not too far off from his own yet something about those rounded features and plump lips had rendered him mute. It was all he could do to open his mouth as nothing sounded beyond that simple action. A perfectly straight, pearly smile came framed by those decadent lips as the man chuckled warmly. Jean was still focusing on the starry tattoo around his throat and the piercing at the top of the shell of his ear.

"Are you alright?" He asked carefully, eyes glittering with concern as the thick Italian accent caught Jean completely off guard.

Jean nodded before realizing he'd fallen asleep in the handsome stranger's lap  _ "Oh!" _ Bolting up, he clearing his throat and attempted to adjust himself "Yes, I'm sorry! I must've fallen asleep. I never even realized someone was sitting beside me."

The man shrugged "No, no, it's fine. You should know where I'm from it's not uncommon for people to sleep on the train...... and, though it's rare, it happens when someone sleeps on you."

Feeling more embarrassed by his last statement, Jean's flushed cheeks only darkened "Again, I'm _ so _ sorry."

"Please," he grinned "don't worry about it. You seem a bit familiar. May I ask your name?"

"It's quite possible you've seen my face before since I'm a fashion designer and it's fashion week," Jean offered with a smile.

Grin widening, the man nodded "I see. That explains it. I'm a fashion model. We may have ran into each other before. I still didn't catch your name."

"Oh," Jean chuckled awkwardly as he extended his hand "sorry. My name is Jean Kirschtein. 'Just Kidding: JK New York,' is my line. Everyone thought the initials would be funny so I went with it."

"Marco Bodt," the man responded, shaking his hand firmly "and it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Kirschtein. I'm the fill in model you hired. Sorry it took so long for me to arrive. Europe wasn't having the best weather. It's starting to get chilly, you know?"

Jean's eyes widened "Ah.... _ yeah. _ My assistant actually handed me your file. I'll be honest......I didn't even look at your photos only your credentials and background. Now that I see you though, well you've got a really nice body,  _ gorgeous _ bone structure, and a killer smile. You'll do perfectly though you’re a bit broader than the model you're replacing. I'll have to do some alterations to the outfit."

As he listened to Jean, Marco couldn't help but laugh "Haha! Do you have a habit of saying what's on your mind, Mr. Kirschtein? I don't mind that you didn't investigate much further. I was simply happy to have an excuse to get paid while also turning down a rival designer of yours. I don't like what they stand for and so I wasn't lending my face to the label."

Being called out for his honesty, Jean shrugged "I do often say the first things that come to mind. It keeps me honest and everyone on their toes. As for rejecting another contract, thank you, but that means you must like what my label stands for."

"Diversity," Marco began "is a beautiful thing. Everyone should be able to be comfortable in their own skin without societal standards shoving unhealthy expectations down their throats. Just being happy with yourself and healthy is the key no matter your appearances."

"Well said, Mr. Bodt. I was told from a young age, when I modeled, that I was only worth what the labels would pay for my pretty face. I decided to go for broke and start my own line instead. I've been rolling in a comfy place of spite and energy drinks for the last six and a half years. I fell asleep because I've been up too long with all the preparations. Once again, I'll apologize and I look forward to working with you," Jean smiled as he found himself daydreaming about the model.

"And a pretty face it is indeed," Marco replied with a teasing tone "but you're better off as a designer who can influence others. Being a model isn't all that great but, I mean, I  _ do _ get to sit at home and eat a whole bag of Doritos when I want to without stressing about creating something......so maybe it is?"

Jean chuckled at the imagery "I can't imagine you elbow deep in cool ranch chips watching television. I see you working out in a gym to stay fit."

Tone teasing and flirty, Marco hummed "Hmm, that so? First, they're spicy nacho because cool ranch is disgusting. Second, do you flirt with  _ all  _ your models as you imagine them half naked and sweaty?"

Eyes blinking owlishly, Jean scoffed "Tch, I never said anything about half naked.  _ You did. _ Do you flirt with all your designers or just me?"

"Just you," Marco answered with a feline grin "but because you fell asleep in my lap, looking adorable, it's a bit fun."

Blush darkening, Jean rolled his eyes "Uh huh, I'm sure it's just absolutely delightful." As their stop approached, Jean looked at the time and smiled softly "Well, I have the suit I've been working on that I've been meaning to let out a little bit considering your measurements are different than the initial model. I need your measurements. If you don't know them you can just come with me and I'll get them. You can leave after."

Marco nodded "Alright. It's a bit late though so I hope you plan to get some sleep eventually. You shouldn't be falling asleep on strangers."

"Good thing you're not a stranger," Jean countered as he got to his feet "but this is my stop. C'mon." Arm behind him, Jean grabbed his messenger bag then reached for Marco's lapel leading him off the train. A laugh exited Marco's lips as he noticed the stretch of Jean's arm. It seemed like he'd greatly underestimated the difference between them. Jean had been slumped over to the side of his chair for most of the ride and failed to notice the couple inches of height Marco had on him. Deciding that he was not to be led around like a dog, Marco grabbed the hand at his lapel and set the pace of his and Jean’s strides at his side. As Jean looked up he had to pretend he didn't feel his heart racing violently against his ribs. In the dimly lit streets, the street lamps bathed him in a warm glow that made Marco’s devilishly handsome features seem all the more ethereal. 

After several minutes of Jean hiding his face strategically from Marco, they arrived at his loft. Heading inside, Jean tossed his keys to the side and moved away from Marco. Once he climbed the stairs and made it to his work room, he grabbed his tape measure and the pieces of the outfit he needed to work on. When he made it down to the living room he found Marco standing exactly where he'd left him minus his jacket and tie which had been tossed over the arm of his sectional.

"Hope you don't mind," Marco smiled impishly. "Where do you need me?" Jean gestured forward as he began to roll the lime green tape out. Standing short of Marco was expected, but as he looked up with a pen in his teeth he had to fight his thundering heart. All models were gorgeous; that was kind of their go to. What made Marco different? Never before had a model given his breath cause to falter. Being so close to him was almost unbearable, but he proceeded to mark his measurements. Feeling out his body as he wrapped his arms around his waist was an added benefit, but so was getting the measurements for his hips, biceps, and torso. What came next he knew was going to get him into trouble.

Crouching, Jean raised the measuring tape from his ankle up to his inseam. Marco didn't seem to be bothered by it at all so he let it pass. Of course he’d have to be used to that sort of thing. Skimming his fingertips up and down his legs was pretty nice as he then had to wrap the tape around his inner thigh. Every part of the outfit didn't need such precise measurements, and Marco had been a model long enough to know that, so he was just waiting to be caught. The thrill of it all seemed a bit forbidden, screwing around with a model, but he wanted it. There was no denying their spark of something on the train so whatever happened now was purely fun. As he ticked off the last measurement Marco reached a hand down to lift his chin.

Practically purring, he asked "Do you want me to cough while you're down there too, Jean?"

Quirking a brow, Jean chuckled "That depends. Gonna drop trow while I'm right here? I'm done with all measurements so you can go if you want."

"What if I  _ don't _ want?" Marco questioned as Jean stood.

"Then you can put this on and let me pin where to take it out," Jean answered while pushing the clothing at him. Marco sighed and began to unbutton his shirt. Watching carefully as Marco's toned torso was bared, Jean found himself thanking whatever gods existed. Marco carefully pulled on the jacket and waited as Jean slid his hands around his stomach to his lower back so he'd be careful not to stab him with a pin as he made adjustments. Realizing this was just turning into a game of touch-and-go, Marco got a little more bold than Jean had expected as he slipped his hand to his inner thigh while he worked. For a moment, Jean froze and hadn't a clue of what to do next. It was what he wanted, but he was surprised Marco went straight for it. Then again, he had not so subtly ghosted his fingertips over Marco's abs, anxious to feel the cut muscle of his body.

Clearly, Marco had to take great care of himself while Jean was lucky if he ate anything of substance in four days. He was thin, but still had most of his physique from his modelling days. A fast metabolism had always been a gift of his, but as he'd gotten older it only slowed a minuscule bit. Nowadays it was poor diet that led to his lack of body fat. Marco on the other hand was absolutely sculpted like a Grecian statue. The man was Italian and he bet Marco could speak some absolutely filthy things to him if he really wanted him to. With all the decadent foods and rich wines he was surprised Marco didn't work out as often as he could to stay so fit. In the end, it didn't truly matter because he got to have his hands over each inch of his body.

Only when Marco's fingertips delved behind his waistband and jerked him flush to his chest did Jean stop. All of him froze. What was he supposed to do in that situation? Both hands had come to brace himself on Marco's broad, bare chest, freckles still dotting the scape of his skin. 

"You almost done?" He whispered into his ear "Because I'm suddenly really tired of working on my day off. Why don't you take a break, hmm?" Fingertip following the slope of his jaw, Marco made a shiver erupt across his skin with just a simple touch. He wondered just what else he could do with his hands on him. 

Jean shook his head "I can take a break when I'm dead, Marco. Just let me finish before you go groping me anymore."

"Mmm, that says I'm gonna get to continue," Marco chirped cheerily. 

As he moved out of Marco's arms he stepped around him and kept pinning the fabric where he'd need to alter it later "Obviously. You're a not an airhead from what I gathered."

"Not a chance," Marco replied "some of us are college graduates."

"Some of us  _ aren't," _ Jean retorted "but I guess that explains why you're not like the other models. All models have something about them that gives them their edge aside from their looks. Yours is your mind. I like that."

"Good," Marco laughed before asking "but, if mine is the fact I'm not daft like half the other vapid dolls on the catwalk, what was yours?"

Jean took a moment and pulled the jacket off his shoulders "I was one of the vapid dolls. I was only there because I had a pretty face and not much else to offer."

Marco turned and watched as Jean placed the jacket onto the table "I don't think so. While I do think you have a pretty face, and something else, the view from back here the view is fantastic.”

Snorting a huff of air through his nose, Jean turned his head over his shoulder "Did you just, not so cryptically, tell me you were staring at my ass?"

He shook his head "I don't recall saying that. I do also appreciate a nice back." Walking forwards with soft steps, Marco placed his hand at the back of Jean's neck before running it down to the small of his back. "C'mon, you're done with work. It's time to  _ play." _

Turning to meet Marco's gaze, Jean snickered "Haha, well, I guess you're just as bad as me. Tell me, Marco, did you let me sleep in your lap so I could thank you?"

"Of course not," he answered flatly "you just looked so adorable I had to let you. You seemed uncomfortable and utterly exhausted. So, why don't you relax and let loose for a bit?" Unable to say no to that, Jean tossed his arms around Marco's neck and kissed him. For a moment the connection was brief and ensured that his intent was known, but in the next Marco was sweeping him off his feet quite literally. As he moved for a second and third kiss, Marco hummed "Mmm, which way?" Jean just pointed a finger towards stairs at which point he figured Marco would put him down. He was wrong. 

Instead of placing him down on his feet, and allowing him to walk up the stairs like an adult, Marco calmly carried him up to the bedroom. Once inside, Marco kicked the door shut and took a moment to admire his surroundings. Jean was a designer, it was no wonder why his bedroom was so immaculately decorated with paintings and wall scrolls. He enjoyed being surrounded art both passionate and calm. It seemed that even Marco appreciate his bedroom before he returned his attention to the actions at hand. His fingers under Jean’s thighs began to tighten their grasp before throwing him to the bed.

Moonlight streaming in painted the room beautifully, but when Marco found himself in it’s light Jean found his eyes unable to move from his visage. How spellbinding could one man manage to be? The longer he stared, the wider Marco’s feline smirk began to grow. Looming atop him, Marco slithered a hand from Jean’s navel to his chest. Smoothing over his top, he began to take his time unbuttoning each small, clear button while making sure Jean knew that he was moving so slowly on purpose. It was agonizing to be beneath a predator with wiles like Marco’s, knowing very well he was on the menu but was going to be toyed with first.

He’d been up far too long already to not just relax and enjoy the heat of Marco’s touch as he finally revealed his bare his torso. Placing the first kiss to his throat, Marco hummed softly letting it vibrate his skin before mapping a winding trail down his chest and stomach. Unable to resist the urge, Jean inhaled deeply and reached down to run his fingers through Marco’s silken, umber waves. The cashmere strands curled around his fingers so delicately as he let out the softest mewl. Marco glanced up for a moment, eyes darkened with a ferver matching the bubbling lust in his own gut, and placed his hand overtop Jean’s before kissing his palm. If there was anything Jean knew about Italians, it was that they were a passionate people with a capacity for expression like no other.

Desire pulsed beneath his skin. Jean arched his back under Marco’s touch just as he returned his lips to Jean’s stomach. Skimming a hand along his side, able to feel out the expand and contraction of his ribs with each deep breath, Marco took his sweet time surveying every inch of Jean’s body.

“Mmm, how positively delectable,” he hummed against Jean’s waistband before darting the tip of his tongue from the button of his slacks to his navel. An undignified moan tore it’s way from Jean’s throat at the action, body trembling as he looked down to see Marco’s ravenous expression. How this man had him practically begging for him so quickly he didn’t know but he was enjoying every second of the thrill. Judging from the smirk playing across Marco’s lips as shimmied Jean’s slacks off, he was just as excited.

Leaving him clad in his bright, clingy magenta boxer briefs, Marco examined Jean’s body closely. A light peony hue dusted his skin from the obvious arousal coursing through his veins. In retaliation, and not a fan of just being stared at anymore, Jean sat up and dove his hands behind Marco’s waistband. Yanking him down, Jean pressed a kiss to his throat before biting with enough force to release a throaty growl from Marco’s lips. Only egged on by the sound, Jean continued his actions of biting and kissing his way down the exposed tendon. With every little tense of his muscles, Jean knew that he was cracking Marco’s calm composure. 

“I may be tired,” Jean purred against Marco’s earlobe “but I’m not going to sit back and wait forever.”

Pawing at his taut boxers, Marco chuckled “Haha, I’d never dream of making you wait any longer, Angel.”

Intrigued by the chosen term of endearment, Jean asked with a playful lilt “If I’m an angel does that make you the devil?”

“Do you want me to be?” Marco asked with an impish smirk before snaking his hand into Jean’s boxers. “Because if you want me to be, Angel, all you have to do is ask and I’ll treat you like I am.”

Sharply inhaling as Marco’s fingers coiled around his cock, Jean managed to hold his gaze “If the devil was as gorgeous as you, Marco, I’d be in real trouble. I’ll sell my soul to you anyday.”

“Be careful what you say, Jean,” Marco warned softly “for one day I may just take it.” Jean couldn’t help but find that an interesting retort. If Marco was the devil, he’d definitely not mind forking over his soul on account he got to be with him. His hands were attentive and his mind was focused purely on what Jean both liked and wanted. Somehow he was already delivering on what he wanted as he shoved him back to the mattress. Marco’s action had gone from delicate and fleeting to powerful and dominant. Teeth tugged the bruised flesh of his throat, hot breath rushed against his skin, and Marco’s hand began to stoke him in steady rhythm.

Jean’s breath became labored as Marco dragged from him any noise humanly possible while dipping down his body to tear his boxers down with his teeth. Subsequently, Marco quickly replaced his hand with his mouth. Upon pure instinct his hips bucked into the wet heat. Taking it in stride, Marco continued his actions. Hands roamed up his thighs until they grabbed a tight hold on his hips. In that moment Jean could have sworn falling asleep on a stranger was the best thing to happen to him in the last five years. His inhibition no longer existed and his coherence was melting rapidly with each second. Luckily he didn’t need too much to point Marco in the direction of where his condoms and lubricant were stashed. 

A noncommittal whine escaped his lips at the withdrawal of pleasure, but Marco’s following actions would ensure that it only grew. Opting to discard his pants, Marco easily slipped out of them to reveal more than Jean had imagined. It appeared his choice in boxers left nothing to Jean’s imagination. Settling into a comfortable position, Jean gave Marco a flirty smirk just before he’d returned to his actions. Returning to lick a twisting path up Jean’s cock, Marco worked to begin damaging Jean’s composure once again. Knowing that he was already anxious for the action at hand, Marco decided to hasten his pace. 

When it was clear Jean was losing himself in the throes of passion once again Marco began to nudge a lubricant slicked digit at his entrance. Sensing the impending action Jean relaxed and let a low moan tumble from his agape mouth. The immense heat of Jean’s body was sweltering as the muscles clenched greedily around his finger. He began with a subtle twist and thrust as he began before it grew to more with Jean’s comfort. Jean’s hips rocked back into the thrust following the rhythm as Marco added another digit. Chewing on his lip, Jean fought the growing feeling of pleasure in his gut as the fingers inside him began to splay from one another.

As Marco aimed a perfect thrust to his prostate, Jean’s fingers clawed into the sheets  _ “Marco!~~” _ In the next moment, Marco glanced to him with a bright smile before adding a third explorative digit. Writhing in the sheets as Marco continued in the pleasurable assault, Jean found himself immediately overwhelmed by the awash of sensation racking his body. Quaking in the wake of his touch, Jean had to catch his panting breath as Marco withdrew his fingers and set to busying them with something else. Fumbling with the condom wrapper, Marco settled for simply ripping the foil package open with his teeth.

The image caught Jean’s attention for more than the sound. Focusing on his body as Marco stripped out of his boxers to roll on the condom, Jean’s eyes surveyed every freckled piece of skin on display while biting the corner of his lip. Watching intently as Marco slicked on a layer of lubricant, he then sat up to sling an arm over his neck and drag him back down to the bed with him. There was a short laugh as Marco tumbled down with him. Jean smiled just before seizing his lips with a renewed vigor. Slipping his arms up Marco’s broad back, Jean wrapped his arms around his shoulders while Marco began the push into his body. Breaking the kiss, Marco threw his head back and waited until fully sheathed inside Jean’s body before moving.

A low hiss sounded from Marco’s clenched jaw as he gave the first experimental thrust. Leaning down to suffocate a moan into Jean’s throat, Marco pressed a kiss into the already heavily bruised tendon. Jean was unable to focus on anything other than the immense pleasure that was coursing through his veins, his coherence leaving him the harder Marco’s thrusts became. His fingers roamed over Marco’s biceps before his dull nails raked into his skin as Marco drove a thrust into his prostate. Instantly Marco’s name tore from his throat in more of a strangled rasp than anything else.

_ “Fuck, Jeannnn~~” _ Marco moaned under his breath, as Jean’s nails dug further into his skin. Potent as it was, Marco’s fingers ran down his sides to dig into his hips, jerking him back roughly into each thrust. Jean's delirious mind could only feel waves of intense euphoria as the fever pooling into his hips began radiating into the pit of his stomach. Jean clawed harder into Marco’s skin as his thrusts grew erratic, his breathing growing more labored. Reaching between them, as he could feel Jean’s muscles clenching tighter signaling his impending climax, Marco coiled his fingers around Jean’s cock to stroke him in tandem with each thrust. Body shuddered at the overloading stimuli, Jean climaxed with a series of gasping pants and Marco’s name leaving his lips like a prayer.

Urging Marco to his own as he rode out his orgasmic high, Jean rocked back into the stuttered pace. Hearing his name as Marco came, followed by a string of what he was willing to bet were Italian curses, Jean’s skin erupted in a series of chills. Sleeping with a model wasn’t exactly how he expected his night to turn out, but he wasn’t objecting to it by any means. Marco was an attentive, quite talented, man when it came to matters of the flesh. If he were honest, he’d want to see him again next time he wanted to blow off some steam with someone. 

As Marco collapsed to the other side of the bed, he placed a tender hand to Jean’s cheek “You should get some rest now.”

Jean grimaced at the thought “I’m covered in more than my own bodily fluids, Marco, so I’m going to get a shower first. You’re more than welcome to sleep here.” Dragging himself up from the bed, Jean forced himself to be on his feet and try to relax in the heat of the shower. Unfortunately, it served to make him a bit lightheaded as the steam fogged up the enclosed space. When he was finished, he shuffled lazily back into the room to notice that Marco had cleaned up things and was lying atop the sheets clad in nothing. Jean couldn’t help but stare a bit. 

He sauntered to the edge of the bed and hung up his robe on the corner of the frame while Marco whistled lowly “Damn, look at you. Easily understandable how you were a model.”

Crawling into bed, Jean smiled “Thank you, I thi---” Almost simultaneously their phones began to ring and groans exited their mouths. It was already well past midnight. Who the hell could be calling them at the exact same time?! Answering the call, Jean quickly grabbed his phone “Hello?”

“Jean! It’s Kassidy,” came a delicate feminine voice “we’ve tried reaching your fill in, but I don’t know if he’s going to make it. I know you didn’t really look at the information when I handed it to you, but he was a good option. If you want we can try to find another, but it’s not sure if there are any last minute options that would be a good fit.”

Smirking to himself, Jean replied “Kassidy, Marco’s the best option we have. I don’t want anyone else, but you can stop pestering him. You’ll only get in the way of my beauty sleep if I hear his phone ring again. What did I tell you about calls past midnight anyway, hmm?”

“That it’s unprofessional,” she sighed before snickering “but you can’t say unprofessional when you’re with the model, Jean.”

“Listen,” Jean stated as he reached over to grab Marco’s phone from his hands “stop bothering us. Marco will be there in the morning after I finish the alterations. Now, it’s time I sleep. Also, don’t bother me in the morning either. I’ll be there when I can. After all, if we’re going to get the perfect fit then I need to be at peak performance. Goodnight, Kassidy.” Rolling over to hand Marco his phone back, Jean smirked “Be sure to stick around tomorrow. We’ve got a lot of things to do.”

“And you’re at the top of my to-do list,” Marco purred sensually before swiftly stealing a kiss “so let’s make sure you get _ plenty _ of rest. Goodnight, Jean.”

Jean hummed as he rolled over onto his side, feeling Marco’s breath tickle his neck as he wrapped around him “Goodnight, Marco.”  
  



End file.
